The Emancipated eBook

“But you can’t help it, my dear; and she
must know tomorrow if not to-day.”

So before long Barbara went upstairs. She entered
the room softly. Madeline had her eyes fixed
on the ceiling, and did not move them as her sister
approached the bed.

“Maddy!”

Then indeed she looked at the speaker, and with surprise,
so unwonted was this tone on Barbara’s lips.
Surprise was quickly succeeded by a smile.

“I know, Barbara; I understand.”

“What? How can you?”

“I heard a cab drive up, and I heard a knock
at the door. ’That’s Mr. Musselwhite,’
I thought. He has been here a long time, and now
I understand. You needn’t tell me.”

“But there’s a good deal to tell that
you can’t have found out, quick as you are.”

And she related the circumstances. Madeline listened
with her eyes on the ceiling.

“We shall be married very soon,” Barbara
added; “as soon as a house can be chosen.
Of course it must be in London, or very near.
We shall go somewhere or other, and then, very likely,
pay a formal visit to the ‘place in Lincolnshire.’
Think of that! Sir Roland seems a good sort of
man; he will welcome us. Think of visiting at
the ‘place in Lincolnshire’! Isn’t
it all like a dream?”

“What will mamma do without you?”

“Oh, Zillah is to come home. We’ll
see about that.”

“I suppose he forgot to bring me some flowers
today?”

“No But I declare I forgot to bring them up.
I’ll fetch them at once.”

She did so, running downstairs and up again like a
child, with a jump at the landings. The flowers
were put in the usual place. Madeline looked
at them, and listened to her sister’s chatter
for five minutes. Then she said absently:

“Go away now, please. I’ve heard
enough for the present.”

“You shall have all sorts of comforts, Maddy.”

“Go away, Barbara.”

The sister obeyed, looking back with compassion from
the door. She closed it softly, and in the room
there was the old perfect stillness. Madeline
had let her eyelids fall, and the white face against
the white pillows was like that of one dead. But
upon the eyelashes there presently shone a tear; it
swelled, broke away, and left a track of moisture.
Poor white face, with the dark hair softly shadowing
its temples! Poor troubled brain, wearying itself
in idle questioning of powers that heeded not!

CHAPTER V

MULTUM IN PARVO

Elgar’s marriage had been a great success.
For a year and a half, for even more than that, he
had lived the fullest and most consistent life of
which he was capable; what proportion of the sons
of men can look back on an equal span of time in their
own existence and say the same of it?